Two countries I knew
Two roads I walked
Both were exquisite and fine like the edge of a razor. Exquisite was the joy. Exquisite was the pain
Both flayed me, opened my soul to heights and to depths for which there are no words
One was ruled by the Sun
One was ruled by the Moon
One was filled with light, and joy, and the thrill of growing things
It is hard to breathe there, the air is thin and the light hurts your eyes
One was dark with a sweet, saturating, sadness heavy as the earth
It’s hard to breathe there under that weight, in the stillness, in the dark
One Kingdom promised the answer to dreams and desires of the heart
One Kingdom answered the dread of my deepest fears
Back and forth, back and forth, long I journeyed the bi-polar pathway
As high as I soared, even touching the sun, that far I fell, down, down, down
Longing’s ache, movement, hope’s teasing tug pulled me into the glorious fire, my wax melted and I fell
Great was the fall, epic was the ruin, dry, dusty, darkness, solitude, empty hollow ache
Long I lay there, time’s ticking warped, stretched into intervals that only the shifting Earth can reckon
As the mountains grew and continents shifted, dust settled over me, nothing grew but the rocks
Only silence and solitude and stillness were my companions, grief my nourishment
Then something stirred in me, a movement, an energy, a foreign force that frightened yet awakened me
I rose from the dark earth and made my way into the place between places, that space between light and dark
A region rarely traversed. The powerful pull of the poles seeking to claim me for the left or the right, the good or the bad, for gods or the devils
But I refused, something had changed, I rebelled against them both and was reborn on the utterance of the word No
Neither was my mortal home, neither was the land of my true habitation
The new way was neither/nor, but Both at once
The path, at first unstable, unfathomable, impossible like a drunk man on a tightrope
I learned to let go my clinging, my addiction to knowing, to allow the currents of emotion to wash over me
Stillness, the only way to move in that place between the paradox
And as I surrendered movement I was moved by forces larger than I, changed and rearranged
My pattern resonating with that which has called to me from forever
The lie of the either/or is tenacious and It’s powerful spell can only be starved slowly, never broken
The black sorcery practiced by the ancients continues still, hidden in view
The promise, the lure of distraction, life lived falsely, divided, unaware, asleep on the square, a bird in a cage
The Kingdom of Both is among us, can you not perceive it? Awaken to reality’s dream
Come walk with me here. I need a companion. We need companions to help us balance along the razors edge
Come and lay down your striving, lose all, and find everything here in the Kingdom of Both
But They say lots of things and it changes like the wind blowing this way and that
They used to say it was flat
Pluto used to be a planet too
Then it was not, now who knows
Can someone remind me if eggs are still bad for you
Is it Global Warming or Global Cooling or just Change now
It is hard to keep up between seasons of American Idol and Netflix marathons
It is hard work whoring myself for the next newest shiny thing They say I must have to be complete
I need to turn on the programming written for my particular demographic to get my bearings
Let’s see . . . what trifle shall I mediate on today
Whose direction will fill my thoughts and be parroted with borrowed words
Am I against Christians or Gay people, Black or White Devils or the manipulated Mexicans brought in to fill a growing gap
Do I care more about puppies than baby parts
Will I kill you over an idea that you are an idea, a label not a soul
Existential unnamed rage projected onto the stereotypes injected into my mind
Or will today be a time to remember that I forgot to feel terrorized
By the ones They have created, pissed on and off, and financed
Cause if I am angry about flags and fags or pants that sag I won’t consider
It will never enter my mind that perhaps I am asleep dreaming I am awake in this hall of mirrors
A prison of half-truth and misdirection, held captive by the cage created in my mind
Fighting for the crumbs from Master’s table that I have built and even now sustain
Righteous anger aimed amiss is an impotent thing and is no threat to Them
It only tightens the noose and the more I struggle the less I can breathe
That is why it was said to turn the other cheek. It dissipates Their power
They feed off the struggle of the pawns and the knights, the bishops and the royal court who think they are players
But no, they are being played, both king and pawn.
The game is played above their heads with pillars and ladders to heaven
Whether one travels a space at a time or the length of the board it is still on the square, boundaries defined by the Makers of the game
Rules and moves defined, determined by demographic, groups magically manipulated by the illusion of averages and statistics
Groups cannot think, only individual souls might consider that there may be better questions that would reveal the real play
A soul might pause and wonder why is it that they ask Them for permission to marry in the first place or why it is we seek a right that we already posses
A soul may ask how it is that we have surrendered our authority to smiling sorcerers and devils that claim to own this world and us through Divine Right
Birthright traded for a bowl of beans, distraction of their fertility rituals, and conjured safety
For They promise security and solutions from threats and problems They created
They break my legs and I gratefully accept the crutches They provide from my labor
And I will continue to eat the poisoned food and water They make available then come flaccid and fat and weak, hat in hand begging my Masters for Healthcare
I will not give a moment’s thought to Their mass genocide, drug trade, trafficking in children for sex, starvation of tens of thousands because it is convenient, expedient for Them
No, but I will fight for my right to remain a slave to the business of the MON EYE god they serve, stay discontent in my little cube as they offer me up as a sacrifice to the Lord of the Rings
It is all business, nothing personal, I am a number, a member of a group and have grown accustomed to my bondage
My chains may be of iron or gold yet chains they remain
And I will be on guard to protect my status
It is what I have traded for my empty, grasping, and envious soul
I have become my own prison guard policing myself and others ever watchful for the code words that signal a breach in the walls of my demographic
Cracker, Nigger, Faggot, they change through the years and the current context of culture
They are a function not a person, but if I am a statistic what do I know of spells and incantations spoken over me from my birth
Flags and Fags and pants that Sag are the current code words which illicit the predictable preprogrammed patterned response
I will watch as they change business models based on trends and temperament of the slaves
Socialism, Capitalism, Fascism, Communism, are all isms and ocracys and any will serve them at need
It is all the same game to them and they need good ignorant slaves whatever They call them or the system dejure
Even if one wants to be a “good” Master, they still want to be Master
But, what if the world is flat after all
What would that mean
Would it alter my steps
I think not. They come one yard at the time either way
I encounter one soul at the time too. I have never met an average or a median or mean
Men and women and boys and girls given rights by their Creator
Given seeds and water and earth and resources for life in love and grace, not walking death and slavery
Real change happens in the heart and the mind as we awaken and shake off the webs they weave
They can only do what we allow, it is all a head game played by our leave
No is the most powerful word
There is no need to fight anything but the fear and the addiction to what does not satisfy anyway
P.S. It is interesting that the UN uses a Flat Earth map. What’s up with that?
P.S.S. They said it was flat, then a ball, but now use a flat map, I wonder what people will do when They tell them that the Aliens are here to save us and it is important to submit to trans-human implants?
P.S.S.S. It all sounds crazy when it is first said. It always has because it’s different. It sounded crazy when they told you not to shit your pants anymore too. Your world was shaken but you learned to handle your shit differently.
P.S.S.S.S. The funny and sad part is that some folks will take more issue with the map and alien stuff than the slavery they are living.
P.S.S.S.S.S. Just remember that if there is fear and a promise of safety They generated the fear and built the pens for everybody to run into. That is the real game.
P.S.S.S.S.S.S. Perfect love casts out fear – Love, Your Creator
I have found that most of what I write is an attempt to be descriptive of some process at work in me. And then if I go back and look at it I find that many times it was in some ways prophetic in terms of where I needed to go next. Or perhaps it is that this student is slow and can only take what I need in small doses and must return again and again until the lesson is finally learned.
When I wrote this piece some years ago there was a stubborn anger and a blind faith that refused to move from where I was. It was during the beginning of the rebirth of me or at least of my awareness of the process. Today it is less desperate anger and more a statement of faith that somehow living in the paradox is the path for me. That in deep places I already know and am slowly developing a new language to contain the sights of the undiscovered territories of my Soul. In the end I wonder if the idea of “choice” is a bit overrated. Especially if the conscious options keep one blinded to that which is hidden within view.
Am I terribly weak, or terribly strong?
I am pulled between forces stronger than the earth.
Yet I am not utterly destroyed.
I may yet lose my mind or I may find it.
I am ambivalent yet I choose.
I choose ambivalence.
I wait.
I will not choose out of fear of loss.
I do not fear loss.
I fear being lost.
And the man is lost. His fears have come upon him.
Day Six: Today’s Prompt: Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year?
When I read this prompt I was not excited. Not because I have not met interesting, meaningful people this year but because I have. And I have already put that energy into a piece I called the Gift. It is about a beautiful soul who I have met across time and space but she is a part of my existence now. There are others who have also become a part of me and I so look forward to reading their work and interacting with them, but she was the first. She is brilliant in her ability to notice things and people who are often overlooked. Her genius is in what she notices and what she does with it. She is open to those who are different from her and she gives them grace. She is ever trying to learn and grow, a woman of courage. She is dedicated to those whom she loves and is fierce on their behalf. I love her writing. I could not do what she does, ever. It is like good bread and the fragrance of fresh cut grass, nourishing for body and soul. Thank you Calensarielfor noticing. And thank you for opening the door for me and introducing me to some of the coolest smartest people I have ever known. She is somebody worth spending your time with. You will have missed a treasure in your life if you don’t stop in and chat with her. Be Groovy!
The poem that follows is my attempt to give her a small token for a debt much too large to repay. The Gift.
The gift was not in Her doing but in being, Herself
I was desolate
Lying still among the debris
In desperation I wrote, seeking
Needing some response, some touch, some signal from the universe
All was void
Perishing for lack of me
Her genius, Her magic lies in her attention, what she sees
Dying ember
Her heart noticed
A bruised reed She would not break
A smoldering wick She would not snuff out
She saw beauty in the brokenness and as a child would She clapped for joy
She did not attempt to brace up the reed or give it instruction
She found wonder in the ember as it was
And as she clapped her hands it fanned a fire
Her mere interest helped the reed straighten it’s Self
Her gift was not in the doing
It was in the being of Herself
And in the recognition of the beauty found in ashes